February 25, 2011 § Leave a comment
I have no game. I hate people who have game. I hate any other man who is successful with women. DJ’s. Guys in bands. Good looking guys. Actors. Children’s entertainers- people who have jobs writing and doing voices for Disney Channel shows. Photographers. Anyone who has not completely sold or bastardized their dream is much more attractive to women than me. Anyone who is not completely self-loathing and whose face does not look like it was hit with a shovel. I would say money, but I don’t really believe it is money. Dudes with money are maybe appealing to aging Russians.
But dudes who occasionally clean their apartment. Dudes who are not so spent after 10 hours of self-debasement for nothing that they can barely struggle off the fucking couch to pour another drink. Dudes who are not nakedly and transparently hoping to rawdog you and never speak to you again, they probably do better. Not dudes who drive flashy cars, but dudes who, if their air filter had become detached, and made an incredibly loud rattling sound whenever the car was idling, and they knew for a fact that the repair was a simple matter of driving a screw through the bottom of the air filter pan– dudes who either purchased that screw and did it themselves or took the fifteen minutes to have the mechanic right down the fucking street do it, instead of just listening to that incredibly loud thump-rattle at every stop light for over six months– those dudes probably do better with women than me. Dudes who have traveled. Dudes who have big dicks and there is really no quality you can put your finger on that suggests they have a big dick, yet somehow you could easily pick him out of a lineup as the dude with a big dick– those dudes. You would not pick me out of a lineup as having a big dick. Especially if it was a lineup of dicks.
Dudes whose TV and/or stereo is actualy hooked up to something so they don’t have to cue up a bunch of youtube videos that take an incredibly long time to load on their shitty internet when they take you home– although, they will be playing some bullshit, not Claude Debussy like me. Still, they do better. Dudes who are able to withhold at least for a few dates their total hatred of their job, family, dating life, personal habits, the gym, etc. etc. Dudes who do not insist on trying to make out with you right after a cigarette even if you don’t smoke. Dudes who do not have a nest of giant spindly prehistoric-looking centipedes in their tiny bathroom that startle when you turn the lights on and crawl under the toilet seat where you are about to put your ass. Dudes who do not confess their belief that women peak physically at 15 to 32-year-olds. Who do not confess to repeatedly hiring prostitutes even though it’s clear they were sex slaves forced over in the rusty hull of some freighter from Korea. Dudes who do not respond to tales of child sexual abuse with a “shining my helmet” gesture. Those dudes do better than me.